How We Used To Be
by princesstaranee
Summary: We fought, we loved, we promised. Now look at us. So go retreat into your carelessness, or your money, or whatever it is that keeps you sane. See if I care. I probably do.


**A/N Sonny with a Chance, Hannah Montana, The Suite Life on Deck and Wizards of Waverley Place are all ending! :'( WHAT AM I GOING TO WATCH? I hate my life. :'(**

**Enjoy. :)**

'_Love is patient, love is kind, it does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.'  
><em>1 Corinthians 13:4-8

The Fight

I slam the door behind me and march up the stairs to my room.

'You're on the couch tonight!' I yell.

'Oh, I do _not_ think so!' he retorts, appearing in the living room doorway. 'I'm the one who's been sat here waiting for you to come home. For all I know you've been fucking my best mate!'

'That's disgusting. I'm not you.' I turn to face him, my eyes narrowed to slits. 'For the record, I was out with Tawni and Zora. Which I'm allowed to do. Because you don't own me. Not that it's any of your business anymore.'

'I think it is. It's been my business since you married me.'

'Oh, really? So you can sleep around with whores and God knows what else, but I can't go out with my friends?' I shake my head. 'I'm going to bed.'

'Come on, Sonny. It's my last night. I don't want to fight with you.'

I take a deep breath. 'Chad, if you apologised for, well, everything, we wouldn't be stood here. Please just go and shoot your movie in Italy. I wish you'd left sooner,' I sigh. This is us now. Slamming doors, yelling upon arrival, silence upon leaving and at any other time too. Silence so loud it deafens. I've never before known how true that cliché is.

Where's the passion? Where are the simple moments when we're doing different things in harmony? Where are the tears that I should be crying? Where are the apologies?

'You don't mean that.'

'I do. I really, really do. And I wish I didn't.'

'I don't believe you.'

No, you wouldn't… I'm the romantic one, the one who forgives no matter what… I love you, Chad. _Stay_. Don't ever be faithful. Run away and come back. Hurt me. I'm only fighting you because it's better than this emptiness.

'I'm sure you don't. Just go, Chad.' I'm so weary. I turn towards the front door and see the sheets rain collapsing down around his house. 'Take the weather with you.'

/000\

The Fall

I miss him. I can't bear it. He writes to me – I don't know why, when he could text, call, e-mail. He writes such beautiful things. Beautiful, meaningless things. Poetry. They're in a box beneath my bed with my wedding ring and the unsent replies I wrote. The 'Darling' letters. I should burn them. But no one ever does, do they? They're kept in that box and read in a moment of nostalgia. Wishful thinking.

I feel like Alice. I'm spinning and tumbling and freewheeling down a tunnel towards –

God knows where. I don't want to miss him. I want to move on, away, forwards. Why can't he just let me be?

I lie on my bed in the motel room I've taken to staying at weekends when I'm lonely. Every weekend. The rain hasn't stopped for weeks. It's bizarre weather for California but it reflects my mood perfectly. Pathetic fallacy. God, I've turned into Miss Bitterman. She used to tell us how the sunshine meant a good day and then talk about Fitzgerald's use of pathetic fallacy in Chapter 5 of _The Great Gatsby_. We never even studied _The Great Gatsby_.

I'm reading it at the moment. Horrible book. But it takes away the pain of missing him. Or rather, the painlessness. Maybe I should read _Wuthering Heights_, so I can relive that long-lost passion.

I don't want to relive it. I want to go home and be held.

For the first time in months, I start to cry.

/000\

The Hatred

His stupid, smug face is plastered on billboards every fifty yards around the world. His stupid, smug film is the highest grossing of the year. His stupid, smug money arrived with a stupid, smug note with a stupid, smug apology. I addressed it 'Return to sender' and attached last night's used condom.

Arsehole.

Pillock.

Moron.

What was the guy's name? John? Peter? Jesus fucking Christ? I can't remember. I don't care.

I do, I'm not like this, this isn't me. I'm a good girl; I have respect for people, unlike him. What have I turned into?

It's all his fault.

Bastard.

Twat.

Idiot.

I damn well hate him.

I bloody love him.

Fuck this.

/000\

The Heartbreak

'Hi, this is Sonny! You know what to do.' _Beep._

'Sonny, it's me. Ring me back? We need to talk.' _Beep._

'Hi, this is Sonny! You know what to do.' _Beep._

'Sonny, please just call me. I can't be without you. You don't understand how much I need you. I miss you so-' _Beep_.

'Hi, this is Sonny! If your name is _not_ Chad Dylan Cooper, proceed. You know what to do.' _Beep._

'That's childish, Sonny. Meet me at our place on Saturday night? I just want to talk to you.' _Beep_.

'CDC here. Sorry, I can't talk at the moment but if you leave your name and number I will get back to you as soon as I can.' _Beep._

'Chad, stop calling me! I've moved on, I'm _happy_. Stop ruining that! I will not meet you on Saturday, or any other day for that matter. Leave me alone and get some other blonde bimbo to jack you off. You don't need me.' _Beep._

Damn, I need him. I haven't been to our place in years. God, I so want to see him. Should I go? It'll tear my heart in two.

_Brring brring. Brring brring. Brring brring –_

'Hello?'

'Chad? It's me. I miss you too.'

'I'm sorry; this is Mr Cooper's agent. Who is this?'

_Pause._

'No one. It doesn't matter. Thanks anyway.'

'Are you sure, miss?' _Pause._ 'Are you alright?'

'Yes, sir, I'm as right as rain. Thanks again!'

'Miss, I really think-'

'No, I'm fine. Really. Bye!' _Click._

I go to our place. He's not there.

/000\

Losing My Religion

I'm in Church for the first time in a very, very long time. It's Tawni's wedding. Bitch. I'm wearing green. I told her it was an accident. I was meant to be her matron of honour, not Zora. Double bitch.

The goddamn preacher is banging on about the sanctity of marriage and what love is and how Jesus loved us all _so much_. I can't believe I used to suck all this stuff up. I can't believe I still kind of do. False hope.

He's here – guest of the groom. Wearing a green tie. Hell, we match. We both thought green was lucky at weddings because, after all, the flowers are important and they have leaves and they're green.

_Lord, what am I rambling on about? I need him so much and he's just across the room. Give me strength…_

Finally, the end of the ceremony. I hurry out and promptly run in to Chad. _Awkward silence_.

'It's good to see you again,' he says curtly.

'You too.'

'Keeping well?'

'Same old.'

'As ever.'

'I heard you hired a lawyer. You want a divorce?'

'We haven't spoken in two years, Sonny.'

'I know, but…'

'What?'

'You're my husband. I love you.'

He smiles. Kisses me. 'I love you too.'

'Divorce?'

'Divorce.'

We shake on it.

/000\

'_I'm not the first or the last  
><em>_to stand on a hillock  
><em>_watching the man she married  
><em>_prove to the world  
><em>_he's a total, utter, absolute, Grade A pillock.'  
><em>Mrs Icarus, _from_ The World's Wife  
>Carol Ann Duffy<p> 


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